


The Spring Eternal

by Patrick_Fowlet



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ancient History, Children, Children's Literature, Community: journeystory, Dark Magic, Elemental Magic, Escape, Fantasy, Fishing, Gen, Kid Fic, Magic, Magic-Users, Meddling Kids, Orphanage, Orphans, Race, Secret Children, Temple, Young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patrick_Fowlet/pseuds/Patrick_Fowlet
Summary: Finneas thought he was your average orphaned boy living on the outskirts of a crumbling empire. The boy soon discovers he has a power that could either save or destroy the republic. Joined by his brother and friends, Finneas must navigate the world of politics as revolution brews.(Original Work).(c) 2021 - Patrick Fowlet





	1. Outsiders

Nudge.

“Finn…”

No response. Another nudge.

“Finneas!”

This time the voice was louder. Still no response. Yet another nudge.

"Finneas, you lazy git!" the girl's voice yelled. "Get up, you're late!"

The boy shot up, jolted by the sudden shock. He stretched his arms out, yawning. He looked over to see Gretchel. The red hair girl had a stern face as if she was trying to tell the boy off.

“Finally you wake,” she commented. “The way you were sleeping, I thought you’d never wake up.”

“What time is it?” Finneas said, still sounding drowsy.

“Late,” the girl replied. “You’re meant to catch fish today. You remember?”

It suddenly dawned on the boy. It'd been raining the past few days. No one in their right mind would go fishing, not in weather like that. It'd stop raining the previous night, so it was decided the boys would help the fisherman catch a few fish.

Finneas leapt from his bed. The boy made his way to the cupboard, where he found the first shirt he could find. All the boys shared the cupboard with the other boys, so occasionally he would pick out someone else’s clothes. Finneas dragged the shirt on. It might’ve been his friend’s shirt. It was a tad too big for him. He grabbed a pair of trousers, pulling them up his leg. Much to the boy’s luck, it was his trousers. Finally, he grabbed his jumper.

“Now you get up,” Gretchel remarked sarcastically. The girl watched as the boy got himself ready.

“I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Compared Kist, no…” the girl chuckled. “But at least he remembered to wake up.”

“He’s already there?”

"I assume so. Unless he's planning to skive."

The boy began walking down the hallway, Gretchel following from behind. Opening the door, Finneas entered the bathroom. The girl remained just outside, standing by the doorway. The boy turned the tap, allowing water to fill the sink. He began splashing his face with water.

He stared up at his face. Slight freckles on the noise. He used to get mocked for that, but he always ignored those taunts. Fighting back never worked, Finneas always told himself. Violence was never his thing. That was more Kistoph’s thing. His friend would beat any kid who mocked Finneas, even if Finneas had specifically asked Kistoph not to lay the person out. He worried someday his friend would pick on something he couldn’t chew. He’d hate to see his friend get hurt, especially if Finneas had caused it and not his friend.

Finneas looked at his curly hair. It wasn’t as long, or as unruly, as his younger brother’s set of curls, but the boy always found it difficult to maintain. Every now and then, he’d get it cut. But it always grew back. Using his fingers, Finneas quickly and crudely combed his hair.

“You know you’re late, right?” Finneas heard Gretchel nag. “You don’t have to fuss too much about appearance.”

She was right. No one really cared what Finneas looked like. Most people didn’t give two glances to an orphan. He was the lowest of the low, and he knew it. He was mostly unpaid labour. They might’ve disguised it as an apprenticeship, but Finneas was never paid. He was lucky he was allowed to keep the last catch of the day.

“I better get going then,” he said.

Making sure the matron wasn’t looking, Finneas sneaked out of the orphanage. He made his way down one of the winding backstreets. Being born and raised there, the boy knew the streets of Angleum on the palms of his hands. Most outsiders would get confused with the maze-like city layout. Finneas, however, knew every single shortcut – each and all nook and cranny. The boy had been picked on from time to time. So it was important for him to learn all the hideouts and shortcuts to avoid any trouble. 

Eventually reaching the city’s main street, which went from the mayor’s house right down to the city’s docks, Finneas made his way through the busy crowd. There were quite a few people out today. Most didn't give a second glance to the orphan. Most people didn't care. Finneas didn't mind. He didn't need the attention, especially since he was late.

Finneas found himself at the docks. He wandered carefully through the crowd, pushing his way through the masses of people. Because of the previous few days of rain, most people were eager to make the most of the day. For all they knew, it would rain the next day. There were all sorts of people, ranging from the elderly fishermen, who’ve been working on the docks for years, to wharf merchants, desperate to sell their wares.

The boy could smell the scent of different types of fish, including tuna – his favourite. The boy cautiously ambled across the wooden planks which made up the wharf. Although many of the planks were centuries old, a few of them were from other ages, where the older planks had rotted so badly, they had been replaced with newer timber.

“You are late,” a voice groaned. As Finneas continued to talk, his body started to quiver. Fear made him want to turn back. He began regretting even getting out of bed. Ignoring his subconscious, the boy walked on.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the voice continued its coarse growling.

“I’d something to do. It was very important. A delivery. The matron had a task for me,” he muttered. He came up with the best excuse he could think of. He hoped no one could hear what he had just said, but the voice, unfortunately, understood every single word. The harbourmaster, who oversaw the younger fishermen, slowly appeared from the shadows of the crowd, grabbing hold of the boy.

“How dare you lie, you little scamp,” he snapped. "I was just talking to the matron, half an hour ago. She said nothing of such a task. I even asked where you were. She didn't know either."

From the tone of his voice, he wasn’t happy and Finneas knew perfectly well that he was in trouble. The boy tried to wiggle his way out of the man’s grip, but it didn’t work. The harbourmaster was much stronger than him. The man had strong arms, probably caused by pulling large nets from the sea. It didn’t help that Finneas was small for his age.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Finneas pleaded. “Please...”

His teacher grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Pulling the boy closer, the harbourmaster stared directly into the boy’s eyes.

“It’d a shame I can’t send you down the mines,” he growled. “You wouldn’t last one second there. Your death won’t even matter.” The man seemed to enjoy taunting the boy.

“Well, you can’t…” the boy began to speak. He stopped. Probably not best.

“I can’t?” the man asked, his question sounding extremely demanding. “I can’t do what?” he repeated.

“Send me down the mines,” Finneas said timidly.

“Oh, times have changed. You think you're so smart? A real smart Alek?” the harbourmaster smirked. “You ain’t off the hook. You better get working, you little tyke.”

With one mighty swing, the harbourmaster pushed the boy towards the other kids. They'd all witnessed the scene Finneas had caused. Somewhat embarrassed, he approached his friend Kistoph.

“Did you sleep in again?” the boy’s friend asked. The boy simply nodded.

“Why’d you not wake me up?”

“Bro,” Kistoph answered, “you looked so peaceful. Plus I thought you wanted to sleep in.”

“Not today,” Finneas complained. “

“Well, you should think about buying an alarm.”

It was easy for Kistoph to say that. However, an alarm clock was expensive. Only the rich kids owned something like that. It didn’t help magic-powered alarms were expensive to run. And automated ones, which didn’t need magic to work, were even dearer. It didn’t help there were thieves living in the orphanage. The alarm could easily be stolen. Valuable items like that usually went missing, anyway.

Finneas noticed how his friend hadn't caught anything yet. How long had Kistoph been out here? The boy decided not to ask. Instead of throwing a line out, hoping for a catch, his friend was busy kicking the water. His fishing kit was idly sitting a few feet or so away from him, predictably being ignored.

Similar to Finneas, Kistoph was wearing what was typical for an Estmere youth. He wore canvas pants probably a few sizes too small for him, a thin-layered shirt covered with a knitted jumper, and brown leather sandals.

Kistoph had muddy blond hair, with a slight tinge of ginger. His checks slightly puffed red. He always kept bringing up the fact his father was an outsider. An orphan, like Finneas; the two boys had been friends for years. Everyone kept mentioning how the two were inseparable. It was strange since they were the total opposite.

While Finneas preferred to remain in the background, Kistoph thrived on attention. He always liked to be the centre of everything, to the point of annoyance. The boy was a bit of a goof and occasionally clowned about. But the two boys always got along. People kept telling Finneas how his friend was a bad influence. He always ignored their advice. Kistoph was a good person at heart.

“So how long you think we’ll be out here for?” Finneas asked. “It’s getting pretty chilly.”

The boy needed a new jumper. The one he was wearing was too bit too big for him – he’d lost his old one and was forced to wear one of the older boy's jumper. The sleeve was torn to fit the boy’s arms.

“Not sure,” Kistoph replied with a sense of uncertainty. “It all depends on the weather. Let’s hope for rain. A few drops will do.”

“Well, at least Nance can do something with the fish we catch,” Finneas remarked.

Nance was the orphanage's cook. She was one of the few friendly faces. Where most grownups couldn't care less about the kids, the cook always went out of her way to be nice. Her food wasn't all that fantastic – she did the best with what she had – but at least they had something to eat. It was either that or eat stale bread.

As for the matron, that was another story. The woman was an old hag. She might've been younger, but time hadn't fared well for her. She always seemed ancient. Everyone knew she hated children. But since she needed the money, she worked there anyway. She made sure the kid’s lives were a living hell. Finneas made an effort not to cross paths with the matron.

“Let’s hope the old hag don’t force us to starve,” Kistoph commented. “She’s been in a real foul mood lately.”

“It doesn’t help you keep peeing her off,” Finneas joked.

“Hey,” his friend said defensively, “it wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Finneas smirked. “It wasn’t your fault you left one of the windows open.”

“Well…” his friend attempted to change the topic, “…we better get to work, I suppose.”

In the far distance, Finneas could hear seagulls screaming. Occasionally the birds would approach the harbour. The pests would try and steal whatever the fishermen had caught. In responses, they would shoo the birds away. The seagulls usually came back. Strangely, the birds were avoiding the docks. Perhaps they'd found food somewhere else, Finneas pondered. At least something was enjoying their day.

Finneas threw a line out. Hopefully, he could catch a few fish. Better than nothing, he assumed. The matron usually nagged on the boys who didn't catch anything. She usually ignored Kistoph. The boy looked a lot tougher than he was. However, Finneas was small enough be a target. It was best to impress matron, even if she didn't give two tosses for him.

An hour or so passed. No even a single bite.

“Caught anything?” Finneas asked his friend.

Kistoph shook his head.

“Nope, sorry,” he replied, somewhat apologetically, “Been too lazy today. Plus, I think yesterday’s rain scared the fish away.”

Of course, what Kistoph said was highly ridiculous. Fish swam in water; they don’t care whether it’s raining or not. They’re already wet.

The harbourmaster was staring at them, probably working out whether the two boys were actually doing anything. Kistoph quickly threw out a fishing line, however, without any bait at the end. At least he was trying to look busy.

Noticing the harbourmaster had stopped inspecting them, Finneas signalled to his friend that it was safe to pull the line back in. As expected, the hook was empty. No fish, what so ever. Kistoph made no illusion at how terrible he was at fishing. Finneas, at least, was a bit better.

Feeling a tug, the boy realised something had bitten. Finneas began pulling the line in, hoping it wouldn’t break. It wasn’t the best line, but it’d worked for the boy for a few weeks or so. The harbourmaster wasn’t all too please whenever a boy broke his line.

“A wasted catch,” the harbourmaster would usually say, with much disappointment.

The fish wasn’t too big. It didn’t take too much strength to pull the thing in. It was maybe a few inches long. The boy placed it next to his fishing kit. One down, a dozen or so probably to go, he told himself.

A few hours passed. A bell rung, signalling the end of the day. It was around late afternoon. Finneas had caught three fishes. They weren't big or anything, but something was better than nothing. Not bad, he thought. The boy noticed his friend hadn't caught anything. Quickly, before anyone noticed, Finneas gave Kistoph one of his catches.

“Thanks,” his friend said, softly.

Finneas quickly packed his line and hook in his fishing box, before storing that into his courier bag. Flinging bag across his shoulder, Finneas steadily followed Kistoph. His friend packed his gear a lot quicker.

“Wait up,” Finneas yelled, trying to keep up with his friend.

The other boy was eager to leave. The sun was beginning to set. They had a few hours of free time before having to return to the orphanage. Angleum was rather boring for a group of young urchins. There weren't too many hideouts. Most had been taken by the older kids. Neither Finneas nor Kistoph would pick a fight just for a hangout. They knew they'd get their butts whooped. 

Luckily for the two boys, they'd found a small hangout within the basement of an old indoors market. The building used to get lots of business, years ago. But years hadn't fared kindly to the building. Newer market buildings opened up in other parts of town, especially the more prosperous area. Only a few merchants ever went here. Since the place was basically abandon for most of time, the kids used the place as a hideout. The owners of the buildings didn’t mind, anyway.

The basement room had a few couches, left there by a previous occupant. Kistoph immediately leapt into one of those couches. Wiggling his bum, the boy got comfortable. Finneas, however, was a bit more careful. He carefully got himself comfy.

Their friends hadn’t arrived. Although not the most popular kids out there, the two boys had a few friends. Although not orphans, their friends would hang out together. Strangely they were late. Finneas and Kistoph usually arrived after them.

“Know where Gretch is?’ Kistoph asked.

“Nope,” Finneas replied.

It wasn’t like he kept track on the girl all the time. Heck, Kistoph and Gretchel were more like siblings. Finneas was surprised his friend didn’t know where she was. Occasionally, Gretchel and some of the kids at orphanage visited the hideout. But they mostly had other haunts.

Suddenly their friends arrived. Thorm and Charly. Finneas had known the boys for years. While not fishermen like Finneas or Kistoph, the other two boys weren’t rich or anything. Thorm was the butcher’s boy. He helped his father chop up meat. Every now and then, he’d give the two orphans some steak to give to Nance. As for Charly, his father was a travelling merchant. He never got to see his father that much, since his father spent most days out of town. His father at least made enough money to buy an apartment in one of the tower blocks. Charly would brag about the view. Everyone knew the apartment was tiny, barely able to fit a small family.

“You won’t believe what happened,” Thorm announced loudly.

“Believe what?” Kistoph queried.

“There’s a Sensor in town,” the boy replied.

“No way!” Kistoph, sounding as if in disbelief. “That’s total chaff.”

Sensor never came this far south before. Finneas wasn’t even too sure whether a Sensor had visited Estmere before, let alone the town of Angleum. He was in the same position as his friend; surely Thorm was wrong.

“He’s right, man,” Charly defended. “I was there myself. The Sensor even had a spat with the Mayor. It was hilarious.”

“The mayor was like accusing the Sensor being scum,” Thorm added. “He was spitting and yelling, saying stuff about taxes or whatnot. I’m surprised the Sensor didn’t storm off right then and there.”

“Yeah, you what the mayor can be like,” Charly continued. “He was wearing that suit of his. That stupid one. Makes him look so pompous. The damn fool couldn’t have more gel in his hair. Why the old folks vote for that fool; who knows.”

"Wasn't as weird as what the Sensor wore," Thorm commented. "He had one of those white cloaks on; the one's Sensors usually wear."

"But he wore jeans," Charly added. "Like, real expensive jeans. And in good condition. No holes or anything. Damn outsiders, I tell you.”

“So…” Kistoph asked. “What happened?”

“The mayor told the Sensor to pee off,” Charly explained. “The Sensor tried to say something, but he kept being cut off by the mayor. Kept being told he’s full of fibs. I think he gave up. Just walked away. I’m surprised the crowded didn’t chase after him.”

“So where’s he know?” Kistoph queried. “The Sensor.”

“Don’t know,” Thorm answered. “Probably skipped town. Don’t blame him. Who’d want to live in this deeth-hall?”

The four sat back in silence. It felt strange; as if any moment someone could say something stupid. They usually did. And it usually was Finneas. It was the case today. Kistoph opened his mouth.

“We should check on the mayor’s residence,” Kistoph proposed. “We could get some dirt on the guy.”

“You mean spy on him?” Finneas asked. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if we get caught?”

“We won’t,” his friend reassured him. “Trust me.”

Finneas wasn’t sure about Kistoph’s plan. There was a lingering thought they’d get caught. Finneas had been given the cane before. It wasn’t something he’d want to experience again. And who knows what the punishment would be if they’re caught spying the mayor. His friend was being insistent, so Finneas decided to tag along. He wasn’t going to abandon his friend.

Thorm and Charly wished the two boys good luck. Knowing they had only an hour or so left before having to return to the orphanage, Finneas and Kistoph made their way quickly towards the mayor's residence.

The mayor wasn't all too popular with the youth. While the grownups saw him as a crowd-pleaser, the kids could look past his facade. Whatever fun the kids could find, the mayor was eager to take away. He increased the work-hours for kids being apprenticed. He said it would allow the kids to learn more, but everyone knew he did it for profit. The mayor had his pocket in every business, whether it was the fisheries or factories. There were even rumours he was lobbying the republic to repeal their labour laws and allow the mines to be part of the apprenticeship scheme. He was an all-round terrible person. Any excuse to get dirt would be better than nothing.

The two boys made their way to the mayor’s residence. Checking to see whether any guards were about, Finneas and Kistoph made their way across the wall. Using Kistoph as a lift, Finneas was able to pull himself up on top of the wall. He then pulled his friend up. Before anyone could spot them, the two leap down onto the grass. Dashing across the garden, they approached the building itself.

Climbing the mayor’s residence itself wasn’t too difficult, unlike the wall surrounding the building. Checking to see whether any guards were patrolling the area, Finneas made his way up the building first. Kistoph followed from behind. The two found themselves on a balcony. They moved towards an opened window. Voices could be heard inside. One was the mayor. The other was the sound of a boy. Finneas couldn't recognise the voice. The boy mustn't be from around Angleum. He sounded northern, beyond the Short Sea. Besides that, nothing else could be identified. Finneas and Kistoph glanced through the window, their eyes barely peeking through.

“So who we have here?” the mayor said, facing the boy.

“Lucian,” the boy said. “My name is Lucian.”

The mayor simply laughed. He didn't seem to take this boy serious. That seemed pretty typical for the mayor. He never took anyone young serious. He only thought them as a problem; something to be solved, or be rid of.

The boy was a year or so older than Finneas. He was rather slim; as if he'd been starved. The boy had bright blond hair, far blonder than Kistoph’s. He wore a cloak, this one a cream colour. Finneas had heard about these people. They were a Sensor’s apprentice; yet to go through the ritual that made a person a member of the Order. The boy was yet to gain his ability to sense magic.

“So Malikos sends his pet, then?” Mayor said smugly.

“I’m no pet,” Lucian said, not budging an inch.

He stood his ground, even though the mayor approached him. The mayor got incredibly close. Face to face, to be precise. The man liked to get into people's personal spaces. It was his method of intimating people. Usually, it worked. But not for this kid.

“You know why I’m here?” the boy announced.

He was attempting to look brave, but the mayor walked pass him as if he was nothing. The mayor approached the window Finneas and Kistoph were peeking through. The two boys ducked for cover, hiding from sight.

“It that Sensor,” they could hear the mayor say. “Seb… er… Sebasten… was it?”

“Yes... Sebastos,” Lucian was heard saying. “He’s gone against the Order. Malik sent me to comprehend him. If you know his location, it would… be wise to tell me.”

Finneas quickly glanced up. The mayor had turned back to look at Lucian. The man walked towards the boy, who was still standing defiantly. Whoever he was, the boy was brave.

"I had a debate with him," the mayor explained. "A fiasco outside town hall. An embarrassment. Hopefully, it doesn't affect my re-election."

“The Order can assure you, you’ll remain mayor,” Lucian said, before adding, “as long as you follow Malik’s instruction.”

“If it will get rid of you, then so be it,” the mayor, now sounding extremely aggressive. He probably saw the boy as a bug; some annoyance to flick away. “He said something of a cave. A source or something. I don’t know. Just leave, before I change my mind.”

Just as the mayor said that Kistoph made a large sneeze. The look on his face seemed as if he was trying to say sorry. Knowing the noise most likely alerted everyone, both boys knew they needed to get away as quickly.

Finneas and Kistoph quickly climbed down the building. Dashing across the mayor's garden, they came upon the wall. Finneas looked to see whether guards were approaching. There wasn't any. Kistoph again helped lift the boy on top of the wall. Finneas then grabbed hold of his friend, pulling him up. Like before, both boys leapt from the wall, although this time Finneas felt ground-shock went he stumbled onto the pavement. Knowing they didn't have much time to think about the pain, the two boys sprinted as fast as they could.

They continued running down the main road, bewildering those that were browsing the market stalls. Gradually, the two boys began to slow down. Now jogging, they came upon an alley. Making a quick zip down it, the boys suddenly stopped. Both breathing heavily, the two were laughing.

"Let's not do that again," Finneas said, still gasping for air.

“You are scaredy-cat?” Kistoph smirked.

“No,” Finneas responded. “Just not stupid. We shouldn’t have done that. You know what they’re talking about?”

His friend shook his head. Neither of them knew what’d occurred. Neither boy really cared. The only thing that mattered was the thrill of the rush. They mightn’t have got any dirt on the mayor, besides that confusing conversion, but at least they had a story to tell. Other kids would dig that stuff up, Finneas kept telling him as if to justify his actions.

"We better get a move on," Finneas stated. "Before the matron realise we're late. I dread to think what punishment she'll think up next?"

The matron was cruel. The cane wasn't her thing. That was mainly used by men. The matron was far more twisted. Anything that'll embarrassment them; that was her method. Finneas had seen fellow orphans made to wash the matron’s smelly old feet. Another time, a boy was forced to eat rotten food found deep within a rubbish tip. Worst of all, disobedient orphans were stripped to their underwear and forced to walk Angleum’s streets. The thought made Finneas shutter.

They continued walking down the alley. They made their way to one of the smaller roads, which stretched and bend like a river. Wandering down the street, Finneas could smell rotten fish. A merchant was trying to sell gone-off snapper. The boy wondered how the man could dare sell such gross stuff. He pondered whether the man actually sold any fish. The two boys quickly walked passed the stall, attempting to make as much distance between them and the smell before they slowed down again.

Going down another alleyway, they arrived at the orphanage. Completely out of the way, no one would be the wiser of its existence. Orphans were the lowest of the low, best to be forgotten. They were expected to deal with whatever they were given.

“Home sweet home,” said Kistoph sarcastically, before breaking into a laugh. Finneas also began to the laugh.

“Home is where the heart is, I suppose,” Finneas added, “If you can call it a home.”

As the two boys giggled, Finneas started feeling the presence of the person. A large figure appeared from behind them.

“What have we here?” the sinister voice said. With dread, the two boys turned around slowly. It was the matron. The women towered over them. Staring down at them, the large plump women continued speaking, her voice booming so loud everyone nearby could hear her. “I didn’t see you at dinner. Where were you?”

“The harbourmaster gave use some task,” Finneas thought up any excuse he could think of. “I’m sure if you ask him, he’ll vouch for us.”

Finneas had obviously just lied. He knew he was going to get in big trouble, whether then and there, or later on. The matron simply nodded her head.

“I’ll have to ask him,” she said. “Pray to the One you’re telling the truth. Because if you’re not…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence off. Both boys knew what the consequence was. Seemingly satisfied that she'd scared the living daylight out of them, the matron turned around and walked back inside the orphanage. Before they could get in further trouble, Finneas and Kistoph followed.

They entered the orphanage's main room. Making sure the matron wouldn't harass them further, they wandered up a stairway and into a lounge area. Usually, the common room was full of kids, most likely trying to escape the matron's stare. Today, however, it was pretty empty. Finneas's younger brother, Kenelm, was sitting at a table, playing a game of cards with his friend Randle.

Kenelm and Randle were two years younger than Finneas. Like his older brother, Kenelm had curly hair, although long and more unruly. Randle, on the other hand, and short brownish hair. Wearing dungarees, the boys were expected to sweep up in the factories. They would occasionally complain about their jobs. However, Kistoph would always remind them there could be worse jobs. He always told them they could easily be sent down the mines. Neither boy knew yet about the law that stopped stuff like that.

Kistoph approached the table. Realising they’d company, the two younger boys shot up. Both seemed panicky; as if trying to hide something.

“What do we have here?” Kistoph said, jokingly inspecting the table. “Illegal gambling, I assume.” He was trying his best to sound as official as possible. He was smirking the entire time, which ruined the act somewhat. “Looks like we’re going to have to arrest you boys.”

Just as Kistoph said that the two younger boys to dash away. Randle was much quicker, making his way downstairs. Kenelm wasn't as lucky. Grabbing hold of his overalls, the older boy was able to pull him back. Squeezing the boy in a hug, Kistoph held the younger boy captive. Kenelm tried to escape. It didn’t work. The older boy was much stronger.

“Don’t hurt me,” the younger boy kept yelling.

“Not if you don’t say pretty please,” Kistoph chuckled.

“Please don’t!” Kenelm continued pleading.

A sudden noise from downstairs could be heard. It sounded as if someone had been harshly rammed against a wall. Kistoph quickly let go of Kenelm, who was still struggling get out of the boy's hold. The older boy looked at Finneas. Both boys nodded, as if in agreement. Something was happening downstairs.

Finneas and Kistoph wandered down to the first floor, to investigate the noise. Randle had been knocked back by something. Finneas quickly checked the younger boy, kneeling down to make sure he was alright. Randle opened his eyes. He looked somewhat dazed, as if not knowing what’d happened. The younger boy seemed alright. Whatever ever pushed him back was only going to give him a few bruises, nothing more.

“Finn!” Kistoph alerted his friend.

Standing up again, Finneas turned his attention to his friend. Kistoph was pointing at something. Finneas turned again. It was the same boy they’d seen talking to the mayor. Lucian? That’s what his name, wasn’t it, Finneas tried to recollect.

“You don’t belong here,” Kistoph warned.

Despite his jestering nature, his friend could be quite overprotective of his friends. Everyone knew not to pick a fight with him. Obviously, this Lucian guy didn't get the memo, Finneas had realised. 

“And you don’t belong outside Mayor Cameri’s house. You’ve been snooping, have you not?” Lucian said, trying to make his height a tool for intimidation. “It was you, was it not? Outside you’re mayor’s house?”

"It's none of your beeswaxes," Kistoph stood up. He wasn't a person to take a threat sitting down. "And you won't scare us?"

“Oh, but it is my business,” the other boy said, sounding smug. “And you should be scared. You’re meddling in things beyond your comprehension.”

Finneas wasn’t sure what the boy meant by comprehension, but he assumed it had something to do with not understanding something. He mightn’t be fully aware what was going on, but Finneas could tell something rotten was occurring. The mayor was hiding something, and Lucian knew exactly what it was. Finneas wanted to probe the boy, but he decided it was best not to. He let Kistoph throw a taunt or two at the Sensor apprentice, hoping that’d deter the boy away.

“Well… well… you don’t scare us.”

Lucian simply laughed.

“If I see you again,” the Sensor apprentice warned, “I won’t be as kind. You will feel my wrath.”

The boy turned around and left the orphanage. Finneas thought about following Lucian but quickly decided against it. It seemed his friend also had the same thought. They returned their attention to Randle, who had managed to pull himself up again.

“He’s a wind taper,” the younger boy said. “He… he used his powers. Pushed me aside. He was, like… on the other side of the room.”

Finneas had a sudden feeling of guilt. Kistoph and he had put themselves into danger, spying on the mayor. At no point did he think his action would’ve affected someone else. He should’ve never put Randle in that danger. Finneas felt so stupid thinking this was all such a good idea.

“I need to fix this,” Finneas announced.

“Fix what?” Kistoph asked. “The boy left. He won’t hassle us anymore, I’m sure.”

“It’s not that,” Finneas clarified. “I think I know what the Order is looking for.”

“You’re going where I think you’re going?” Kistoph said. It was unusual for him to be cautious. He was usually the enthusiastic one, willing to jump feet first.

“Yeah,” Finneas answer. “You heard what they were saying. They’re looking for a cave. You suppose it’s that cave.”

“Maybe…” Kistoph countered. “But it’s dark. And it’s getting late. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I can wait till tomorrow.” 

No one was talking Finneas out of this. Not even the matron. Despite Kistoph's protest, Finneas approached the orphanage's entrance. He briefly thought about turning back. But by the time he'd turned the doorknob, he decided what he had to do.

“Look after my brother,” Finneas instructed. “I be back soonish… I promise.”

With that, he left.

(c) 18 March 2021 - Patrick Fowlet


	2. The Cave

Finneas made his way to the city’s western wall. He had walk pass the rich part of town. Most of the people living here didn’t care much for the poorer people, living down towards the seaside. As long as they had a view, they were very much complacent. Finneas wasn't too keen on the people living in this district. They lived off the backs of the lower folk. The poor worked in the factories and in the docks so that the rich can live in their mansion on top. The boy would dream of living in those flash buildings up on the hill. He knew very well those dreams would never come true.

By this point, the boy was puffing. He'd run here as fast as he could. He looked around to make sure no guards were looking. Making his way down one of the dark alleyways, rarely ever visited by anyone, Finneas rediscovered the crack in the wall. It’d been years since he’d last visited this place. The boy had grown a bit since then, so he struggled to crawl through the gap. He eventually made his way to the other side. His heart was still beating. Finneas didn’t want to be caught. He knew perfectly what the punishment would be if a guard caught him. The simple thought of the cane almost made the boy turn back. He decided to continue, however.

Reaching a tall cliff, the boy tried his damn hardest to remember the path he'd taken many years previously. He'd visited the place before, many times when he was younger. It'd been years since the last time. Although all his friends knew about the place, Finneas always went alone. They all knew the boy needed time to himself. Everyone did, every once in a while. Sometimes his mind would get so clogged up, Finneas needed a place to think. After the boy in the mayor’s residence mentioned a cave, Finneas knew exactly the place he was referring to.

The boy began climbing the cliff. He knew the right places to climb. Finneas was always good at climbing. It was a skill he quickly learned to navigate through the city. The boy was quite agile, moving upwards rather quickly. Only once did he nearly slip. Finneas placed his foot on a rock he thought stable. Apparently, it wasn't. The rock simply tumbled away, the sounds of it hitting the ground many feet below. Luckily enough, Finneas grabbed hold of another rock, this one far larger. He was able to use it to pull himself up.

He found himself on a flat patch of ground. Finneas decided to stop for a moment to regain his breath. The boy looked out towards the city. The Major Moon had already risen; it's golden crescent a glowing beckon in the sky. The smaller moon, known as the Minor Moon, was yet to rise. It was too early yet. The small asteroid-like moon would dash across the sky at least twice a day, once around midnight and another around midday. Finneas had heard from some sailors that the minor moon couldn’t be seen further north. The boy wasn’t sure to believe this. But he had never left Estmere, let alone Angleum. It was highly likely the sailors were telling the truth. There was also another moon, known as the Stranger. However, only those with a telescope could see it.

Finneas couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the city from such a distance. It was actually quite beautiful, although the boy would never admit such sentimental feelings to other people. He knew quite well he’d be mocked for it. Several apartment towers scattered the cityscape. The bright lights glimmering from the buildings reminded Finneas of the Bell Tree. People would decorate the tree, situated in the centre of town, with lights and all He always found the tradition strange. Apparently, they did it to celebrate the birth of the One. However, Finneas never paid much attention to that sort of stuff. Rich kids would always get present. Finneas and his friend never did. The Bell Tree Festival had no effect on the boy.

With another deep breath, the boy continued climbing upwards. Finneas felt a cold breeze coming from the north. The wind was beginning to pick up. The night sky was slowly becoming cloudy as if threatening to rain. Finneas knew he had to pick up his pace. The boy eventually made it to the top of the cliff face. Using all his strength, the boy pulled himself up. For a few moments, the boy laid there, regaining his breath again. From there, it was a small and simple path towards the cave. Before entering the cave, Finneas checked to see if he’d been followed. The whole act of checking was ridiculous. No one in their right mind would climb such a steep cliff. The boy was certain he was alone.

There was an old lantern at the cave’s entrance. Finneas had left it there many years ago when he first started visiting the cave. Although the matron was suspicious when a lantern had gone missing, she never found out it was Finneas that’d stolen it. Finding a match from his backpack, the boy lit the lantern. It gave off a dim light, enough to guide his way through the cave.

The cavernous tunnel felt eerie. The cave was, by no means, man-made. It wasn’t a straight route – with the tunnel twisting and turning, and sometimes forking off down to separate paths. Finneas only knew the correct pathway due to visiting the cave so many times. He would occasionally have to climb of a giant boulder blocking the path forward. At other points, the boy would have to hold his breath as he squeezed through a gab. Every time the boy had visited the cave, he always smelled dampness. Now and then, the slight sound of an underwater stream could be heard. The boy had search far and wide, wandering down all the cave’s path. Yet Finneas was never able to determine where the noise’s source originated from.

With the lantern, the boy was able to navigate through the cave. He’d arrived at his destination. Still feeling awestruck, despite the many times he’d visit this cavern, Finneas entered a large chamber. Finneas had lost count how many hours he’d sit there staring at the cave’s walls. Countless mysterious symbols covered the wall. The boy had no idea who carved them, let alone what they meant, but he always found it calming to study the strange writings.

Each symbol had been carefully etched into the wall, with each character containing several wedge-shaped marks, as if a scribe had chipped away at the wall. Every symbol looked unique. Of the hundred symbols on the wall, none of them repeated. A few were similar, of course, but everyone was pretty much different. Finneas wasn't sure if they intended to represent actual things, since a few symbols looked like boats while others looked like fish, but the boy always thought of them as pictures. 

The boy placed the lantern in the centre of the room, allowing the light to engulf the chamber. Sitting down, the boy simply stared at the symbols, as if entering into a trance. Time flew by. Finneas wasn’t even sure how much time had actually passed. A few minutes, or a few hours – the boy could not tell. He knew he would have to come up with an excuse when returning back to the orphanage. But for a few minutes, Finneas didn’t want to think about anything. A form of meditation, the boy tried to forget everything. All was so silent.

“I thought this cavern would be empty,” a voice suddenly said. “I assume I must be wrong.”

Finneas stood up quickly. Laying nearby was a stick. The boy quickly grabbed the tree branch. Holding it in front of himself, the boy tried to defend himself. It probably all seemed silly, if not a tad bit ridiculous. What use would a stick do? But the boy was alerted.

“Calm down boy,” the man said. “You can put that stick down. I’m not going to harm you.”

The boy still stood his ground. Finneas had no idea who this man was. He’d never seen him before in his entire life. He had no idea whether he could trust him.

“You’re that Sensor everyone’s been yapping about, ain’t you?”

“You saw the commotion,” the Sensor responded. The man slightly chuckled.

Finneas shook his head.

“Then news must travel fast around here, I guess.”

“Who are you exactly?” Finneas asked.

Living in Angluem, Finneas was as far removed from the outer world as possible. Everything he knew came from hearsay. The boy knew quite well most of it was unreliable. But tad bits of information did get passed around. Finneas was well aware of the Order, and some of the despicable things they’d done.

“I’m part of the Order,” the man responded.

“’I’m quite aware,” Finneas remarked. “I’m not dumb.”

“Didn’t say you were,” the Sensor defended himself. “The name’s Sebastos, but I suppose you can call me Seb.”

“I’m called Finneas… Finn for short.”

The boy wasn’t sure why he gave his name. He still holding the tree branch. He still couldn’t trust the Sensor. Finneas was taught from an early age the Order was a scourge of the Republic. It was the Order’s greed that caused Estmere to join the damn republic.

"I was told there was great power up here," the Sensor said. "It's weird because I cannot sense anything. Whatever's up here, it's not magic based, I suppose."

“You mean the symbols?”

Sebastos stared blankly as if complexed. Surely the man could see all the symbols written on the cave's wall. The look on the Sensor's face said otherwise.

"There are no symbols," Sebastos stated.

The Sensor paused for a moment, not saying a word. Finneas wasn't sure what the silence was about. The man seemed to ponder about something. Finally, Sebastos spoke.

"Can you draw the symbols?" the Sensor asked. "With the stick, you're holding, if you can?"

Carefully, the boy drew the symbols on the cave’s floor. Over the years, Finneas had rememberised every symbol. He could draw them without having to look at them. The boy drew about five of the symbols. The Sensor knelt down to study them.

“Interesting,” he said.

“You’ve seen these before?” Finneas asked.

“I have,” Sebastos replied. "As a member of the Order, I have access to the Imperial Archive. It's the only place anyone can find these symbols. But those tomes… they are completely closed off from anyone but Sensors and Scholars. And you're no Scholar?”

“What you mean?”

Finneas was confused. Nothing the Sensor was saying made any sense. He'd never heard of the Imperial archive, let alone Scholars. Whatever a Scholar was, Finneas wasn’t one. The boy was sure of it. Why Sebastos thought Finneas was a Scholar baffled the boy.

“So the tales were true,” the Sensor continued. He still wasn’t making much sense. “The Seer did see those symbols. He wasn’t making it up.”

The boy had heard of the Seer before. He was said to be the person who discovered magic... or at least brought magic into the world. Besides that, Finneas wasn’t sure what the Sensor was going on about.

“You can see those symbols… symbols only you can see,” the man continued; still not making sense. “You’re the Seer…”

“The Seer?” Finneas asked. “What you mean?”

“Prophecies,” the Sensor answered, although it still didn’t make much sense. Finneas was certainly still confused. “Prophecies made by the founder of our Order. The Seer.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“The Seer said he would return…” Sebastos exclaimed. “And here you are.”

Finneas took a few steps back. The boy accidentally slammed his back against the cave's floor. Although he was in pain, the Sensor statement distracted him. What was this man going on about? Finneas wasn’t special. He was just a normal kid. Not some Seer, or whatever the man was saying.

“I think you must be mistaken,” the boy responded. “I’m pretty much a nobody. I’m nothing special or anything.”

The sensor simply laughed.

“You’re the spark that lights the fire,” he said. “The Order is rotten to the core. You can fix that.”

“Fix what? Nothing you’re saying’s making sense.”

“Oh… but it is…”

Sebastos started walking back and forth. The boy stood there as the man began proposing the plan.

"I'm certain no one will notice one boy going missing," the Sensor said as if speaking to himself. He mumbled for a bit. Finneas wasn’t sure what the man was going on about.

“What you planning?” the boy asked. “What this to do with me?”

“You’re aware what’s happening with magic? About the price increase?”

Although Finneas wasn’t all too interested in politics, his friends and he were already feeling the effects of the manna shortage. The boy wasn't all too sure why this was occurring, but magic was running out.

“You people say it’ll disappear in about fifty years’ time,” Finneas responded.

Sebastos scoffed.

“It’s dire than that,” he explained. “Ten years at best. Twenty if we’re lucky. The life-force of the Republic. Imagine the chaos if all that manna ceased to exist?”

Although Finneas wasn’t the smartest kid out there, he was well aware the impact something like that occurring. Many of the factories spotted around Angluem relied on magic to run. If all that manna disappeared, how else would those giant machines run? Even the radio in the orphanage was run on magic. The matron would always go off her rocket whenever one of the kids overused the thing.

“Isn’t there any way to get some more magic? Surely it can replenish?” The boy probably sounded naïve. He wasn’t dumb, but nor was he an expert. “There is a way… right?”

The Sensor didn’t answer immediately.

“Magic is finite,” the man began explaining. “It’s not some forest. Magic simply doesn’t regrow. Like a stone, you can keep chipping away at it. Eventually, all you will have is dust. Nothing else. You will never recover the pieces you’ve chipped away.”

“So all is lost, then?”

“Not exactly,” Sebastos slight chuckled. “That’s where you come in.”

"Me?" the boy asked puzzlingly. "What can I do?"

“You can see these symbols,” the Sensor explained. “The Seer could as well. He used those symbols to bring magic into the world. If the prophecies are right… I think you can do the same thing. There’s a portal stone in Rivet City, built by the Goblins. If I’m right, I think you’ll be able to open the portal. The Seer did this almost a thousand years ago. Opening it again was surely restore the supply of magic.”

Everything was occurring so fast. Finneas felt somewhat dizzy. Was he hearing the Sensor correctly?

"You want me to go to Rivet?" the boy asked. "That's like… I've never gone that far before. I've never even left Angluem.”

Something in the Sensor’s pocket beeped. He took out a strange device. He softly spoke into it – Finneas could barely hear what the man was saying. Placing the device back into his pocket, the Sensor redirected his attention towards the boy.

“Look…” the Sensor reassured the boy, “I’m not forcing or anything. You don’t have to go to Rivet. But if you change your mind; we will be waiting just outside the city, just slightly north. We’ll set a small fire just to aid you if you want. I can explain everyone while we travel. I have to go… but I hope to see you soon.”

Without further instructions, the Sensor left, leaving the boy alone in the cave. Finneas wasn’t sure whether he was going to take up the offer. The boy always wanted to escape his ordinary boring life. He simply never expected to get a chance to do so. Finneas decided it was best to talk to his friend. Kistoph was always the best person for advice.

After a few minutes of pondering, Finneas decided it was time to leave. Picking up the lantern, the boy began his journey back through the cave. A bat briefly flew into Finneas’s face. He jumped ever so slightly. Usually, he was accustom to stuff like this happening. But the boy felt somewhat unnerved. Coming the cave's entrance, Finneas began climbing down the cliff side. He wondered how the Sensor was able to get down. There were no signs of anyone else having climbed the cliff. Perhaps there was another path the boy was unaware of. It took him quicker to get down than it was to climb up. It wasn’t before long Finneas had reached the ground. Carefully crawling through the crack in the wall, the boy re-entered the city. 

Finneas finally arrived at the orphanage. It was past midnight. The boy knew he wouldn’t be able to sneak through the front door. It was certain the matron would catch him. The punishment would be unspeakable. Knowing the matron, Finneas didn’t want to find out. He would have to climb the building and sneak through one of the upstairs windows.

The boy carefully scaled the wall, making sure he didn’t make any noise. Most importantly, he didn’t want to fall either. Finneas didn’t want to explain why he was outside at night climbing, let alone why he wasn’t around for dinner. The boy gently pulled the window up, allowing enough room to wriggle through.

Finneas entered the dorm room. Everyone had gone to bed. He approached his friend's bed. He softly tapped on Kistoph’s shoulder. The other boy was already fast asleep. Kistoph, however, quickly awakened.

“What’s it?” his friend asked. “Where’d you go? And what took so long?”

“It’s complicated,” Finneas replied. “Can we go to the common room? There’s something I’ve to tell.”

“Sure…?”

Kistoph crawled out of bed. He was far quicker than Finneas when getting up. The two boys entered the common room. His friend sat down on one of the couches. Finneas decided to remain standing. He still felt restless after what he’d just experience.

“I met the Sensor,” he explained to his friend.

“You met the Sensor, for real?” Kistoph said, sounding astonished. “The guy the mayor talked about?”

“Yeah… it was him.”

“Like…” his friend began asking, “do you know why he’s here… in Angluem.”

“Said he was looking for something,” Finneas continued explaining. “Not sure what he meant at first. Still not sure, to be honest. But… I… umm… think that something might be me?”

“You?” Kistoph sounded confused. “What you mean?”

“He said I was the Seer.”

“What’s that?”

“Not sure, actually,” Finneas answered. “But the Sensor – his name’s Seb... or something like that – explained it all to me."

Finneas described to his friend the conversation he had with the Sensor. The boy mentioned how only he can see the cave’s symbols, that the supply of magic was depleted, and that the Sensor asked Finneas to travel with him to Rivet. Finneas explained there was a portal stone in the Riverlands which only he can open.

“So you’re going to take up that offer, leave this dump of a town?” Kistoph asked.

Finneas shook his head. Something still didn’t feel right. The boy wasn’t able to point to it, nor explain it, but he wasn’t willing to take a risk. He knew quite well he’d get in trouble. Like, real trouble.

“Nah,” he replied.

“You for real?” his friend seemed shocked. “You get the chance to leave this deadbeat town, and you throw it away?”

“I assume so,” Finneas tried to defend his position. “Everyone I know is here. My brother. Gretch. You. I can leave you, can I?”

“Look, if you won’t go alone, I’m going to have to tag along,” Kistoph began explaining. “I want out, just as much as everyone. We’ve no future here. None.”

“What about everyone else?” Finneas asked. “We can’t just leave them behind.”

“I’m sure once we’ve made it big, I’m sure we can return for them. It’s not like this place is hurting us. It’s just… you know… a cycle. I don’t think we’ll get another chance.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Finneas said in defeat.

Somehow Kistoph managed to convince Finneas into journeying to Rivet City. His friend always had the persuasive power. Finneas wasn’t sure how he was able to pull it off. He remembered once how Kistoph haggled a freshly caught snapper down to a few crowns. His friend was also better at lying to grownups. Besides the matron, most adults believed whatever came out of Kistoph’s mouth. Finneas was convinced his friend could get away with blue murder if he ever wanted to.

Finneas carefully tiptoed into the dorm. He tried to be as quiet as he could. The boy was certain he didn’t want to wake anyone up. Slowly he opened the cupboard. He packed as many clothes as he could in his backpack. The boy made sure to leave room for food they'd surely have to buy along the way. Finneas wasn't sure if they'd be able to sneak into the kitchen to steal food without being caught. He just didn't want to risk it. They had to leave before anyone realised. 

Kistoph also packed, although he was a tad bit noisier than Finneas. Luckily his friend didn’t wake anyone up. Shuffling through his personal belongings, the very few the boy actually had, he noticed an old photograph. Taken many years ago, the pictures was beginning to fade. But her face was recognisable. Finneas and his brother were a splitting image of the women. The boy never knew his mother. This was the only photograph he had of her. Carefully, Finneas packed the photo into one of his backpack’s side pockets.

They were about to leave approaching the staircase when a voice spoke. For a brief moment, Finneas thought they’d been caught. They hadn’t, however.

“Where you going?” Gretchel asked.

Finneas turned to face the girl. For a moment, the boy thought about lying to her. Against his better judgement, Finneas decided to tell the truth.

“We’re leaving…”

“Why?”

“It’s… I’m not sure how to explain this…” Finneas mumbled through his words.

“What’s Finn’s trying to say,” Kistoph came to the boy’s defence, “we’re going to the Riverlands.”

“The Riverlands?” Gretchel asked, sounding perplexed. “Why there?”

“I’m the Seer,” Finneas explained. “I meant to open some portal. We’re travelling with a Sensor. I think he’s trustworthy.”

“You leaving on a whim just because some guy says your special?” Gretchel said.

Hearing someone say it, the whole situation seemed ridiculous. Why should Finneas trust this stranger? The Sensor, however, seemed genuine.

“I don’t know if I’m some chosen one,” Finneas explained. “The Sensor could be lying; I just don’t know. But this might be my only chance… a chance to see the world.”

“What about Kenelm, your brother?” Gretchel asked. “You really going to leave him?”

Finneas had briefly thought about taking his brother with him. It’d probably be a good idea. But the boy had already decided against that. Who knows what dangers lie ahead? At least Finneas knew his brother was safe staying in Angleum.

“He’s got you… and Randle… I’m sure he’ll cope.”

Gretchel did immediately respond to Finneas’s remark. For maybe a minute or so, the girl stared at him, as if trying to enter the boy’s inner thought. Finneas felt quite uncomfortable. It was as if Gretchel was telling him off, or something. She did this quite often.

“I hope you know what you doing,” she said, sounding thoughtful.

The girl didn’t say anything else. Gretchel simply turned around and returned to the girl's dormitory. Finneas felt a bit shaken, but he was ready to leave. The two boys tiptoed down the staircase, making sure not to make even the slightest squeak. 

Before leaving the orphanage, Finneas decided to visit the kitchen. The boy was pretty sure no one would be lingering there so late at night. However, he was sure if Nance caught him the cook most likely would turn a blind eye. Every now and then, kids would sneak into the kitchen. As long as they didn’t take too much, Nance wouldn’t mention how food and ingredients were going missing. Although he’d packed his fishing gear in his backpack, Finneas wasn’t too sure when he’d get the chance to catch anything. From the sounds of it, they most likely were going to travel through the Hlath Forest. Although small springs wiggled through the forest, Finneas heard rumours no fish swam in those waters. Apparently, it was cursed for some strange reason; the boy would have to wait till he got to the ocean clearing before he could even think about throwing out a line. 

Opening the bread basket, Finneas packed a half dozen loafs of bread into his backpack. He found some canned food as well. He made sure to only take enough for a few days. They were sure to find a few stores along the way once they'd passed the forest. Kistoph handed Finneas his shoulder bag. The boy stored a few food cans in his friend’s bag also.

Finished raiding the pantry, Finneas and Kistoph continued tiptoeing towards the orphanage’s front door. Twisting the doorknob, the boy opened the door slowly. The door had a habit of squeaking whenever opened. Finneas made sure not to make a noise. For a brief moment, the boy thought he’d heard something; as if someone was walking down the stairs. It was nothing, much to the boy’s relief.

Having made their way out of the orphanage, the two boys were free to not worry about making too much noise. They quickly scurried away, darting down the city’s back alleys. They soon made it to Angleum’s main street. There was an unusual amount of people still wandering the street. The two boys made sure not to bump into anyone, in case it drew suspicion. They also made sure their hoods covered their heads, hiding the two boy’s faces. They made their way to the north section of town. It near a few factories. Guards usually didn’t bother patrolling the area. The lack of security allowed Finneas and Kistoph to sneak into one of the factories’ ground.

Kistoph knew this part better than Finneas. His friend knew exactly where the sewer’s entrance was. So the boy simply followed his friend. Kistoph approached a barbwire fence. There was a gap in the metal railing, where someone had cut a pathway. The two boys were small enough to sneak through the gap. They continued moving, keeping close to the factory building. They eventually came to a bank. Factory owners were known to throw their unwanted waste here. Piles of rubbish covered the bottom of the bank. It smelt horrible. Both boys wrapped cloth around their lower faces, covering themselves from whatever disease lurked ahead.

Making their way down the bank, they came across the sewer’s entrance. Although they could easily sneak through the bars that covered the entranceway, there was door nearby used by sewerage cleaners. Neither boy wanted to waddle through filthy water. Kistoph wandered in first, to make sure no one was there. Alerting his friend it was safe, Finneas followed.

Finding themselves in what seemed to be a storage room, Kistoph climbed down a ladder. Finneas did likewise. They entered what seemed to be a long round hallway stretching off into the distance. The boy had no idea how far these tunnels went. Wandering through the sewer’s tunnel, Finneas could feel a rat crawling at his feet. Panicking, the boy kicked the rat. His friend turned to see what the problem was.

“It’s nothing,” the boy muttered, somewhat embarrassed.

All his friend could do was smirk. Finneas felt like an all-around fool. At least it was in front of Kistoph and no one else. The other boy would poke fun at Finneas, but his friend was never that cruel. He knew when enough is enough. It was certain even Kistoph was feeling a tad bit jittery.

They walked for what seemed like hours. A large amount of time probably didn't pass, but it felt like it. The boy’s foot was beginning to hurt. Finneas would every now and then have to skirt around one of the rats. He didn’t want to embarrass himself again. It was difficult to describe the smell. Even with cloth covering their noses, the revolting smell permutated. There seemed to be no escape from the scent of rotting sewerages. The sooner they got out the better, Finneas had decided.

Eventually, they came across what seemed to be an exit. Bars covered the large pipe’s exit. Finneas tried to squeeze through. The boy struggled before deciding not to attempt that again. The gaps between the bars were too tight to pass through. They weren't getting out that way. The two boys did some backtracking, finding another pathway. Following that way down, they came to what appeared to be another storage room. There was a large metal door on the other side of the room. This was most likely the way out. Kistoph made a dash for the door. He tried to open it, pulling the doorknob as hard as possible. He quickly gave up. 

“Dammit. It’s locked…” the boy said, sounding disappointed.

“Perhaps there’s a key somewhere,” Finneas remarked.

Knowing Sebastos was waiting for them, the two boys searched the room looking for any semblance of a key. Throughout the storage room was large wooden boxes, stack on top of each other. Although it was difficult, the two boys managed to open one of those boxes. Inside was glowing blue crystals – obviously no keys in sight. They did the same with another box, this time finding green glimmering crystals. It became apparent none of the boxes would contain a key of any sort.

“Here…” Kistoph pointed out, rummaging through his shoulder bag. He took out a parchment. “I brought this map. A friend said it’s of the sewers. Maybe it’ll tell us where the keys are kept?”

“You sure it’ll tell us that?” Finneas ponder aloud.

“Of course it would,” his friend defended himself.

Underneath the small glimmer of light the lantern Finneas had brought with him, the two boys examined the map. It was large and complex. Finneas was barely able to grasp where exactly they were. However, his friend was better at directions. 

“Here,” he pointed.

“Guard station?” Finneas read. “You think there?”

“Why not…? Why wouldn’t they keep something important like a key?”

“Well…” Finneas murmured for a bit. “It’s at least a try. Let’s hope no guards are about.”

“Why would they?” his friend remarked. "No guards want to be patrolling this place anyway. And not like we saw anyone coming here."

“S’pose you’re right…”

Although still uncertain, Finneas decided to follow Kistoph. Although the boy could easily wait in the storage room, he wanted to make sure his friend didn’t get into trouble. While it was highly possible the guard station would be abandon – who in their right minds would want to patrol a place like a sewer anyway – Finneas still had a feeling something bad could occur. Better safe than sorry, the boy always told himself.

It didn’t take long to find the guard station. Kistoph had a good grasp at reading the map. He’d obviously study the parchment for many hours already. Was his friend not telling him something, Finneas pondered? Situated in a large room, in which several different tunnel pathways connected, the guard station was crudely made. Finneas was surprised it was an official location – surely they could’ve built something more substantial? It looked more like a smuggler’s den. The boy had heard about those places from sailors. Apparently, every city had one. Finneas didn’t believe they existed… not until now.

“Better look ‘round some, aye,” Kistoph smirked as he walked up the plank and into the wooden hut. “I wonder where they’d keep the key.”

“You sure?” Finneas asked, following his friend. “I’m not sure about this. It just doesn’t seem right.”

“Some scaredy-cat are you?” his friend joked.

“Nah…”

“Then what’s the hassle, then? Let’s go. It won’t take long.”

The two boys began searching. Finneas felt uneasy looking through another person’s belonging. But since Kistoph was insistent the key would be found here, the boy didn't complain. There was a lot of clothes; none of which were guard uniforms. Ragged clothes you'd expect a pirate or something to wear. There was also a stack of old newspapers – several years old. They were yellow and mouldy; Finneas hated the idea of picking them up.

While searching for the key, Finneas noticed a red book. It'd been used recently. The boy opened it only to find numbers and statistics, none of which the boy could understand. Not wanting to disrupt his friend, the boy placed the book down where he'd found it. There was also a note. Picking that up, he read. The boy wasn't the best reader, but he was able to get a grasp of the note's message. A meeting, the note read, and a shipment. Finneas had no idea what that was about. He ignored the note and continued searching. 

“Found anything yet?” he asked his friend. Kistoph simply shook his head.

“Nope…” the other boy remarked. “Just keep looking. I’m sure it’s somewhere around here.”

Finneas was probably getting too complacent as he searched the hut. He wasn't aware of the slow yet steady footsteps approaching the hut; not until his friend tap his shoulder. There were some boxes nearby, which allowed the boy's remain hidden. With a blanket over them, the boys saw only vague silhouettes of the two figures that had entered the hut.

"Payment… on time…" one of the men said. He had a low husky voice. Finneas had heard this person before. He was a guard that occasionally oversaw the kids whenever the harbourmaster was unavailable. The boy never liked the guy. His breathe smelt horribly bad at times – as if the guard had eaten rotten fish. Finneas was uncertain who the other person was; but from the sounds of it, he was another guard.

“Honest day work, aye…” the other man muttered, slowly approaching where the two boys were hidden. He stared at the blanket, seemingly perplexed. The man was about to lift the blankets, revealing the two boys’ location, but he was distracted by the first guard.

“The fact we have to resort to stuff like this show how rotten the system is,” the first guard remarked. “Dealing with thugs… I thought we meant to serve and protect… not become part of the system.”

“Who to say what’s right and wrong, bro,” the second man replied.

“The mayor seems to turn a blind eye,” the first man continued. “Hey… did you move this blanket?”

“No…?”

Finneas heart started to beat harder. He was hoping the man would forget about them – simply move on. He prayed to the One, hoping something would help him. The man started to approach them. He was about to lift the blanket when the other guy spoke.

“Hey…” the second man said. “Want to go for a round? I know a good place near the harbour district. You in?”

“Sure.”

Finneas heard the two men leave the wooden hut – their footsteps stomped as they crossed the plank. Both boy’s remained still, fearing the guards would return.

“Hey… what about the key?” one of the men asked.

“What about it?”

“Should we leave it hanging about?”

“Nah… not like anyone’s going to stray in here… no one ever comes down here. Why you think we’ve been doing this scam for so long?”

“Seems reasonable, aye.”

Then there was silence. Neither boy dared to move, fearing the men would return. Waiting for what seemed like a long time, although probably only ten minutes or so, the two boys stood up – throwing the blanket behind them. Kistoph quickly dashed for the key.

“We be needing this,” he said.

Not wanting to be there when the guards returned, the two boys rushed back to the locked door. For a moment, Finneas feared the key wouldn't work. When the door opened, the boy sighed with relief. The door led to a long hallway, probably going down the side of the city's wall. 

It didn’t take too long to reach the sewer’s exit – the two boys quickly dashing down the hallway. Finneas was rather surprised how quick it took them to make it through the place. The boy was glad to get away from the revolting smell permeating the sewer. Kistoph quickly glanced outside, making sure there were no watchtowers. The two boys had heard the stories before. Guard posts scattered across the city's walls. Since neither of them had travelled through the sewers before – having only heard of the secret passageway from friends – they weren't too sure whether there'd be any guard towers near the exit. Kistoph spent maybe ten seconds before returning the shadow of the sewer.

“Don’t think they guard this place,” his friend’s remarked. “But we better be careful, aye. Don’t want be caught now.”

“Agree,” Finneas responded. While the punishment for wandering the city’s street after curfew would certainly not be pleasant, the boy was sure the punishment for being outside the city’s wall would be worse. “We better get going then, before any those guards in there decided to check this place.”

“Good thinking,” Kistoph replied.

Although no watchtowers were anywhere near them, the two boys decided it was best to walk down the side of a small creek hiding behind the cover of shrubs. Neither boy wanted to take the chance. They were determined not to be noticed.

Slowly, they made their way down the side of the creek, making sure not to fall into the running water. Although the river wasn’t moving too fast, Finneas wasn't all too keen to get wet. For starters, it'd take hours to get his jumper to dry, and also, the boy worried the commotion would draw attention to any nearby guards. 

Most kids living in Angleum learned how to swim at a young age. They either learned how to swim, or they’d risk drowning. Most of the grownups didn’t really care for orphans like Finneas; they were simply a statistic. If a child fell into the water, adults wouldn’t bother rescuing them. It was expected the child to make his own way ashore. Finneas remembered accidentally falling from the pier once. He quickly learned the importance of knowing how to swim.

The river began moving westwards towards the sea. This went on for about a half mile before turning again northward towards Hlath Forest. Hearing from outsiders that had travelled this region, Finneas knew it would turn westwards again toward the sea.

A half hour passed before the two boys noticed a small hazy glow. A hundred feet, they presumed, was where they were going to meet up Sebastos. The light had to be coming from a campsite. For a moment, Finneas wondered whether it was a trap. Perhaps it wasn’t the Sensor? Maybe it was a complete stranger – someone who could rat them out to the guards. Although the boy wasn’t all too certain, the boy decided they had no choice but to approach.

Before Finneas could say anything, Kistoph approached the campsite.

“You Sebastos?” his friend asked the shadowy figure.

As Finneas got closer, it was apparent the man wasn’t the Sensor. Dread started going down the boy’s spine. Had they finally been caught? The figure, however, stood up. Pulling his hood back, the person revealed himself.

"I presume I have some explaining to do,” the stranger said.

(c) 19 March 2021 - Patrick Fowlet


	3. The Natives

He wasn’t the person Finneas was expecting. From the way Sebastos explain it, the boy assumed he was going to be meeting up with the Sensor. There was no mentioning of another person. Something felt amiss. 

“You two look surprised?” the older boy said.

He stood up and approached Finneas and Kistoph. The older boy had dark skin; far darker than the natives who lived in Estmere. He was obviously not from around here. His rather large noise stood out. No one Finneas knew had a noise like that. Wearing a leather jacket, he was far taller than either Finneas or Kistoph. Placing his hand out, the older boy signalled for a handshake. Neither boy knew how to react.

“Where’s Seb?” Finneas asked, trying not to sound too aggressive.

“Serious, what the heck’s going on?” Kistoph yelled abruptly.

The older boy signalled for silence. With a soft voice, he told them, “There are guards nearby. Unless you want to get caught, I would stay quiet.”

Finneas decided to let the older boy explain himself, even though Kistoph still didn’t sound convinced. His friend was staring at the older boy as if he was a threat. Finneas, on the hand, decided there must be an explanation.

“Who are you?” Finneas asked.

“My name’s Cymon,” the older boy explained. “I’m from what you call the Riverlands.”

“What’s someone doing from Rivet here?” Kistoph said, still sound a bit aggressive. Finneas could understand. His friend was being just a tad bit protective.

Although Finneas didn’t understand everything the Sensor had told him, there was a few things he could remember from the conversation. Sebastos said something about a portal in Rivet. Surely something happened, which stopped the Sensor from travelling with them. Cymon must be their guide, Finneas assumed.

“I’m a friend of Sebastos,” Cymon explained. “We were meant to be travelling together, but something has happened.”

“What happened?” Finneas asked. Everything was starting to make sense.

“I’m not too sure,” the older boy explained. “He said he had to travel south. Sebastos said he’ll meet us at Rivet, I’m sure.” As Cymon said that, the sound of guards could be heard from the distance. “We need to get moving,” Cymon said. “If we can hear them, they probably can hear us too.”

The older boy began to move towards the forest area. Finneas followed from behind. However, he noticed his friend wasn’t following. Kistoph was defiantly standing put.

“Why should we trust you?” the boy’s friend remarked. “You could be a spy for the mayor. Or the Order. Or whatever these bad guys are called.”

“I’m a Water Taper,” Cymon explained. “My people have been enslaved for century. I’ll doing anything to set them free. But we don’t have time to discuss matters like this. We can do introductions later.”

Kistoph didn’t seemed convinced. “Prove it?”

The older boy seemed defeated. He simply shook his head.

“This is dangerous,” he explained, “but if it makes you follow me, then…”

Cymon didn’t say anything else. The older boy searched through his backpack. He took out a water bottle. Unscrewing the lid, Cymon poured the water out. The older boy placed his hand overneath the damp soil, palm facing the ground. Drops of water began sprinkling upwards, as if up-side-down rain. Placing his hand in a bowl shape, Cymon turned his palm upwards. A good amount of water was clutched in the older boy’s hand.

The two boys stood there, amazed. Neither boy spoke, waiting for Cymon to respond. Finneas heard about these magic powers, but never had he seen them with his own eyes. 

“Now you believe me?” Cymon asked. Kistoph nodded, as if admitting defeat. “We better go now, before anyone notices.”

The three began their journey. Trekking north, they followed a small river. The source coming from the mountains above, the river steadily moved north, before suddenly turning left towards the ocean. Instead of following the river west, the group continued their journey north. Hlath Forest was beginning to get closer and closer. It started with a few trees, scatter here and there. But the forest suddenly got denser. Soon, dark green trees shadowed across the landscape.

Far off in distance, maybe a day’s walk or two, Finneas noticed the tall mountainous hills. Although not as tall as the mountain range that served as fortress, protecting Estmere from the Dark Lands, the hills of Hlath Forest were quite a sight. The boy had only seen them from the distance. Seeing them up close was breath-taking. Finneas wonder his friend had the same sentiment. The boy glanced at his friend. Kistoph seemed more bothered at walking such a long distance.

Atop the hill were temples. Tinted an orange rust, the temples were built like pyramids. The structure were built thousands of years ago, back in ancient days. The buildings were now vacant, left to crumble to the fate of time. Finneas had heard all sorts of theories for their construction. Natives would claim their ancestors built the temples, as a place to worship the One – the local deity worshipped in the Estmere and Riverlands regions. However, the structures were built long before the natives ever arrived. The boy once heard a sailor say the temples were built by elves that lived an age long forgotten. Even if the elves built structures, Finneas knew quite well they were long gone. The last elf was said to have died something like two thousand or so years ago. And even then, it was debatable whether the story was true or not.

The kids would come up with crazier ideas. Finneas remembered his friend Davis claim the temple was a used for human sacrifice. He would say naughty children would be offered up to savaged ancient gods. Kenelm, however, thought the structures weren’t even temples. Finneas’s younger brother once said the buildings reminded him of a wedding cake. He thought they could even be locations for weddings. A ridiculous thought, but Finneas and his friends used get a lot of laughs out of that one. Always the sensible one, Gretchel took the temples at face value. No matter how much you search for meaning, she always insisted, you would never find its true purpose. Maybe she was right. Perhaps Finneas and his friend were looking too much into it.

Cymon stopped. Having found a found a flat patch of ground, the Water Taper removed his shoulder bag. Drawing out a map, he placed it onto the ground. The group huddled around to inspect the rather large sheet of parchment. The sun had begun to rise, with glimmer of light shooting through the forest’s roof. The map covered the entire Estmere region.

“This is the safest route,” Cymon explain, pointing towards the Hlath forest. “But it will take longer to reach our destination. We can, however, take this path.” Cymon pointed towards another point on the map, a little west from the original point. “But it’s steeper. You two a more familiar with this place, are you not?”

“We… we’ve never really left the city,” Finneas expounded.

“Wait, I thought you…” the Water Taper didn’t finished his sentence.

“What my friend’s saying is we don’t know this place” Kistoph responded, on Finneas’s behalf. “But the quicker path seems better? How steep you’re saying?”

“I’m not sure,” Cymon answered. “I’ve never travelled this far before in Estmere. I’ve mainly remained in the south.”

“I thought you a native?” Kistoph asked “Don’t you people know all these places?”

“I’m a native of the Riverlands,” Cymon explained. “My people may be linked by a common ancestor with the indigenous people here, but we are two distinct groups.”

“Well I vote the quicker path,” Kistoph exclaimed. “How about you, Finneas?”

Coming up with a decision, especially on such quick notice, wasn’t Finneas’s strongest skill. He usually contemplated it for a bit before coming to any decisions. Most often, Kistoph would make his decision for him. With another person travelling with them, it seemed Finneas’s friend was trying to get the boy to back him up. The boy finally nodded.

“The quicker path,” he responded.

The Water Taper stood up.

“So it’s decided,” Cymon remarked. He was about to pack. But noticing the two boys wasn’t following his lead, he stopped.

“Can we please rest?” Kistoph protested. “We’ve walked for hours. My feet’s tired. We’ve not had much rest.”

“Well…” it was obvious Cymon was pondering for a moment, “it’s not like we’re in a real hurry. I said we would arrive at the temple by tomorrow. But being a day or so wouldn’t hurt.”

“So that’s a yeah?” Finneas asked.

“Lay down for a bit,” the Water Taper instructed. “I’ll keep watch. I was able to get a few winks before you two turned up.”

Finneas easily fell asleep. The boy hadn’t realised just how tired he was. Finneas was surprise just how easy it was to fall asleep. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d gotten any rest. Perhaps it was the excitement that allowed the boy stay awake for so long. He’d never left Angleum before. Everything was new.

The boy awoken just as suddenly. Finneas wasn’t sure whether he’d dreamt at all. The moment he close his eyes; they were opened again. Finneas wasn’t certain how much time had passed. The boy had no clue how long he’d slept for. He always felt he could sleep for days. Quite often someone else had to wake him up. Today was different. It felt so sudden.

It was late evening. The rays of the sun shone from the gaps in the mountain ranges. Cymon had noticed the boy had awakened. However, the Water Taper didn’t say a word.

“How long we’ve slept,” Finneas asked, still feeling and sounding drowsy. After pulling himself forward, the boy stretched his arms outwards. He gave an almighty yawn.

“A few hours,” Cymon answered. “Nine or ten. I wasn’t counting.”

“So…?” Finneas turned to check on his friend.

“He’s still asleep,” the Water Taper examined.

“Yeah…” Finneas thought aloud. “Usually it’s me that’s sleeping in.”

Finneas waited maybe a half hour before waking his friend up. Although Kistoph didn’t seem too pleased being awoken so suddenly, he quickly got to his feet.

“Are you two ready?” Cymon asked them. Finneas and Kistoph nodded.

They continued their journey. Instead of moving north, as before, the group began travelling north-westerly following path they’d decided on. Finneas and Kistoph were starting to regret their decision. The small dirt path, which could barely be seen, trailed up the mountain like a zigzag. The terrain started to become much steeper.

Every now and then, Finneas was able to grab hold of a tree. Doing so allowed him to keep his balance. This worked for the first few trees he’d passed. By the twelve tree, the boy felt if he’d got a hang of things. Unfortunately, the thirteenth tree caught him off-guard. Like before, the boy was able to grab hold of the tree. However, he hadn’t noticed the large rock lying nearby. Finneas suddenly tripped. He fell face-first onto the ground.

Kistoph quickly ran to Finneas’s aid. The boy’s friend helped him get up.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…” Finneas replied, carefully scrapping the dirt from his face. It was unusual for the boy to trip over like that. He’d never fallen before whilst climbing. He wondered whether it was due to the unfamiliar environment.

Trying not to make a big deal, Finneas continued following from behind. He made sure he didn’t get to far away from the rest of the group. They had been walking for what seemed like hours. The sun had set by this point, making it difficult to tell what was in front of them. Cymon found a flat patch of ground overlooking a cliff face. Although they weren’t able to make a proper campsite, the group managed to find old branches lying about. Stacking the sticks to together into a pile, the Water Taper used a piece of flint to light a small fire. Only a small flame blazed from the makeshift campfire – barely an ember. He made it quite clear they couldn’t make the flame any bigger. While they were a quite a distance from Angleum, there was still the potential for guards to see the glimmer of light while on patrol. There was no point risking that.

Placing the large pot overneath the flame, Cymon opened a can he’d got from his shoulder bag. The beans frizzled. It took about an hour for it to cook. Everyone now and then, the water taper would stir the beans with a spoon. Besides that, no one spoke a word.

Finneas stared at the photo of his mother. The boy would’ve loved to have met her. He barely knew who she was. If no one had bothered taking a picture of the women, the boy probably wouldn’t know what she looked like. She died when he was very young. He barely had any memories of her. There was a name crudely written on the back of a photograph. Finneas assumed that was her name. No one really mentioned her. The boy never really bothered to ask. He knew he most likely get told something like ‘she was a loose woman’ or something.

Cymon had finished cooking. He poured the beans into the bowls, passing them out to the rest of the group. Kistoph got the first, with Finneas picking up the second. The boy didn’t anticipate just how scorching hot the bowl was going to be. He almost dropped it the moment it was placed in his hands. Luckily, he didn’t. All three began devouring their meals.

“Hey Cymon, you’ve not said who’re you?” Kistoph said, still with food in his mouth. “How’d you come here?”

“I rather not say.”

“Come on!” Kistoph protested. “We should know something about you, if we’re to trust you.”

“I’m surprised you still don’t trust me,” Cymon exclaimed.

“Why should we?” the boy remarked. “Don’t you natives attack our settlements? Kill innocents for some wrong cause, or something.”

“I’m not going to lie, or pull the cotton over your eyes,” Cymon began explaining. “Some of my people have done terrible things. As a Taper, I know we have great powers. I’m a Water Taper, and I’m a native of Rivet – that’s a double edge sword, if there ever was one. I’m don’t support those acts of violence. The murdering of innocent. For what? Are we any better than those who suppress us?”

“I… er… sorry,” Kistoph said softly. Obviously, Finneas’s friend wasn’t expecting this response.

“It should be I apologising,” the Water Taper replied. “I didn’t mean to go on such a rant… you’ve got something against natives like me?”

“Nah… it’s nothing,” Kistoph deflected. “It’s nothing at all.”

The Water Taper stopped questioning the boy. Finneas knew quite well why Kistoph didn’t trust the older boy. His friend never spoke kindly of natives, and he understood very well why. There was no point dwindling on it. The past is now in the past, Finneas was told himself. He would occasionally tell that to his friend. Whether Kistoph either took his advice or not was another question.

It was about midnight, or so the boy thought. Finneas had actually lost track of time. But the Water Taper explained it was time to sleep. Cymon placed what looked to be crystal on the ground. It gave off a faint glow.

“If anyone approach,” he explained, “this should alert us.”

Lying down, Finneas made himself as comfortable. He’d placed a mat on the floor, to dampen the hard ground. The boy fell asleep easily. Like before, Finneas wasn’t sure if he dreamt anything or not.

However, Finneas awoke in the middle of the night. Usually the boy was a deep sleeper. However, he was having troubles trying to drift asleep. He noticed Cymon was awake. Finneas decided to talk to the older boy. Perhaps the boy could discover who their travelling partner was.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Finneas explain.

“I think I’m the same,” older boy stated. “I barely sleep. I guess I’m some restless soul.”

“Restless soul?”

“Yeah… something like that…” Cymon seemed to deflect away his previous statement.

“So…” Finneas began to ask, “How you meet Seb?”

“Sebastos?” the older boy seemed perplexed at the question. He didn’t answer the question immediately. Finneas wasn’t even sure if Cymon was even going to answer. To the boy’s surprise, the Water Taper opened his mouth. “We go a long way, I suppose. We’re not friends, if that’s what you think. It’s well… difficult to explain.”

“You not friends?”

“Well… we probably could call each other friends… I’m not sure whether that’s the right word,” Cymon continued explaining. “We both need one another.”

“What that means?”

The Water Taper simply laughed, as if amused at the boy’s naivety.

“Sebastos is an opportunist,” the Cymon explain. “I’m not an idiot. I know he has motives. But I have motives too?”

“What’s that?” Finneas inquired.

“Free my people,” the Water Taper replied. “For generations my people have been enslaved, brutalised, disfigured.”

“How far you’d go?”

“To hell and back, if not further,” Cymon remarked. “No offense, but the free folk such as you haven’t been all to kind on us. I’m sorry to say that. But the Order, and everything they represent, must be cleansed. And with that, the Republic.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” the Taper smiled. “You didn’t enslave my people. You’re just as much a victim as everyone else. I suppose we’re all slaves in the end. I might be free, for now, but my brother…”

Cymon stopped mid-sentence. He didn’t say anything more. It was rather awkward. Finneas wasn’t sure whether to prompt the older boy or not. It was the first time Cymon had mentioned having a brother. He barely knew the Taper, so he was eager to find out more.

“What about your brother.”

“It’s nothing,” Cymon attempted reflect.

“I’m no idiot, either. I’ve have a brother too,” Finneas decided to add.

“I’m sorry you had to leave him…” Cymon began apologising.

“No need,” the boy interjected. “He has friends. I think he’ll be okay.”

The two sat there, neither saying anything. The moment of silence gave the boy time to think. He hadn’t given much thought for his brother. He wondered what Kenelm was thinking at this moment. He probably be angry, Finneas decided. His brother always dreamt of leaving Angleum. But the boy knew it’d be unsafe. Although it seemed rather harsh of Finneas; leaving Kenelm in Angleum seemed the best option. Hopefully, the boy pondered, Gretchel could explain everything to him. Hopefully he’d understand. The boy wondered whether he’d ever meet his brother again. Finneas honestly hoped so, although he wasn’t too sure.

It dawned on Finneas that he was already feeling homesick. Only a few hours had passed, maybe more, since he’d left the safety of the city’s walls. Was he going to feel like this for the entire journey? The boy really hoped it wouldn’t be the case. He’d never left Angleum before. He knew nothing else.

“Do you ever feel homesick?” Finneas asked. He wasn’t sure if the older boy heard him, let alone answer his question. “I think I’m feeling homesick.”

Cymon didn’t reply at first. After a few seconds of silence, and a deep breath, the Taper spoke.

“Years have passed since I last been in the Riverlands. I long to walk the streets of Rivet again,” the older boy explained. “I do miss it. The sights, the smells. It’s still fresh in my mind, believe me. But…”

“But?”

“It’s nothing,” Cymon said, before changing the topic entirely.

Finneas thought about asking further questions, but decided it was best not too. Trying not to wake Kistoph up, the boy laid down next to his friend. Like before, he feel asleep quickly.

The boy awoke again, this time with the help of small nudge from his friend. It was still dark, with a small glimmers of light shining from the mountain ranges. They quickly ate their breakfast before continuing their journey. The temple was getting closer and closer. Finneas could feel a drizzle of rain. Luckily though, the trees managed to cover them. This stopped the group getting too wet. The rain wasn’t too bothersome. The boy in fact didn’t mind the rain.

By the afternoon the rain had stopped. Despite Kistoph’s complaint, with the boy moaning his feet were sore, Cymon insisted on getting to the temple before nightfall. The Water Taper kept telling the boy it might rain again.

About halfway through the day, the group stopped. This allowed Cymon to hand out snacks for lunchtime. This consisted of a few biscuits the Water Taper had kept in his shoulder bag. Because they were in hurry, they ate their lunch while travelling up the steep pathway. Nightfall crept up on them suddenly, yet Cymon insisted the group keep travelling. Kistoph tried to convince the Water Taper to stop and set up camp, yet Cymon maintained on continuing trekking uphill. Finneas had the same sentiment as the older boy, however he decided against sharing his opinion in case it annoyed his friend.

They kept trudging through the night. Because every was so dark – the meandering trees blocked out any moonlight – Finneas found it difficult to tell what was in front of him. The boy worried he’d trip over, like before. He didn’t want to repeat that embarrassing mistake again. He made sure to stay close to Cymon, barely being a few inches away from the Water Taper. As they drew nearer to the temple, Finneas noticed a shadowy figure up ahead. The boy wasn’t able to tell who the person was. However, Cymon waved his arm in front of Finneas, alerting the boy to stop.

“Who goes there?” the shadowy figure yelled.

Finneas wasn’t sure who the person was. He didn’t know whether they’d been caught or not. The boy had to trust Cymon. Hopefully, the water taper knew what he was doing.

“It’s I, Neco of the House Eshebii,” the Cymon yelled.

“Nasi Neco? The one they call Cymon,” the voice sounded perplexed.

“Yes, that’s me,” Cymon continued, still yelling. “And you?”

“I am Talen. We were told to expect a group. Is that you?

“Yes. Two boys and I.”

“Is Sebastos with you?”

“Sadly, no,” Cymon answered. “He went… he had other matters to attend. He sends his apologise. Is it alright to enter the temple?”

“Yes,” Talen replied. “Come, come. We have a fire lit. The sky is troubling. We shouldn’t keep you waiting.”

Finneas wasn’t sure whether to continue walking forward. For a brief moment, the Water Taper remained still, not even moving an inch. Taking the deep breath, Cymon directed the two boys to move forward. Approaching the man, Finneas noticed Talen was holding a bow and arrow. Although he never used a bow before, the boy would occasionally toss stones from slingshot at the rats found in the hangout back in Angluem. Finneas was actually a pretty good aim. He wondered if anyone could teach him to use a bow and arrow. Maybe when they get to Rivet, the boy pondered.

Talen guided them towards the temple. Finneas had never been so close to one before. He was eager to see what a temple looked like from inside. The boy tried to hide it, but he was feeling just a tad bit excited. Cymon noticed this too. The older boy simply smirked. As they drew closer, Finneas saw large pillars with demon-like faces, their mouths opening as if yelling. They reached the set of stairs that led towards the temple. They soon came to a long passageway. Along the way, Finneas noticed a stone memorial. The artwork was probably ancient; a few thousand years at least. It depicted a battle, probably fought eons ago. Men in full battle armour piercing their enemies with long spears. Finneas assumed the memorial illustrated one of the many attempts by the Sanlanders to invade Estmere. The boy recognised the helmets worn by the enemy soldiers. He’d seen them before in books he’d borrowed from Randle. The Sanlands hadn’t change uniform in over five thousand years.

“Don’t see stuff like this back home?” Cymon commented.

“Why?” Finneas asked.

“Most monuments in Rivet are defaced,” the Water Taper remarked, saying so with a tint of sombre. “I guess some people don’t like art.”

They eventually made their way to the temple’s main hall. Although no one knew what the building’s original purpose was, with the original creators lost to history, in the past the main hall would be used for religious ceremonials. Ancient natives, before the common folk ever arrived, would present offerings to their god. With the arrival of outsiders, worship had become a personal thing. Temples became long abandon. A few churches, dedicated to the One, were scattered around Angleum’s cityscape, although no one ever took them serious. Finneas couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever visited one. He always remember to thank the One before eating any meals, usually because the matron would make them say grace, but no one really believed in that stuff.

The main hall was rather large. Besides the shipbuilding halls in the harbour district, Finneas had never seen a room so huge. The temple’s walls were made of large lime bricks. The boy couldn’t imagine how difficult it would’ve been to stack these brick on top of one another. Hugging up against the walls were makeshift tents. While a few were made of cloth, a few tents were covered with canvas. The shelters were crudely put together with not much care, as if the occupants were ready to flee at short notice. In the centre was a large fireplace. It’d been there long before the temple was a refuge. Probably serving once as a fire temple, the natives made good use of it. Finneas could count at least fifty or so natives crowding around the fire, their ages ranging from young to old. The boy had never seen so many natives in one place before. Some people would find this frightening – Kistoph certainly didn’t seem comfortable – or even threatening. Finneas, however, found the environment rather intriguing.

Natives were rarely seen in the cities, besides Estmere’s capital Heathreed. Most preferred living in the country side. Most natives Finneas had come across were usually merchant. There used to be a native population within Angluem. However, after a series of mysterious murders, pogroms began occurring, with common folk attacking the native’s district. Finneas didn’t blame them for leaving.

An old man approached the three. Finneas assumed man had to be the native group’s leader. Like any natives he had dark skin, although white wine stains covered his face. The man’s skin had become ragged and wrinkles, probably caused by stress and abuse to one’s body. The old fella seemed like a person who’d seen a lot. His head was practically bald. He however had a long shabby white beard, big and bushy.

“If it isn’t Neco… I mean Cymon?” the old man said, opening his arms wide for an embraced.

“Suchir!” the water taper responded, hugging the old man. “It’s be too long.”

“It sure has,” Suchir replied. “What brings you? And who are those… kids…”

The old man moved his attention to Finneas and Kistoph. Leaning on a walking stick, Suchir studied the two boys carefully. Although Finneas felt rather unnerved, he understood the old man’s reservations. Some of the other natives were now staring at them. Most of them probably had barely any contact with the common folk. Some of the younger ones most likely had never seen people like Finneas and Kistoph. Their white skins certainly stood out, for sure.

“Sebastos tasked me to bring them to Rivet,” Cymon explained.

“The wayward son’s returning home?” the old man said, as if sounding surprised at Cymon’s explanation. “Never thought it’d be a Sensor to convince you.”

“Stranger things have happen, I suppose.”

“So…” Suchir returned his attention to the two boys, “who are they?”

“Don’t know,” Cymon replied. “You better ask them yourself. Sebastos barely had time to explain. I thought he’d said there only be one. But two arrive. Must have misheard.”

“Knowing Sebastos,” the old man continued, “he must have a method to his madness. I never understood that fella. I don’t understand the Order in general, anyway.” Suchir laughed, although there didn’t seem to be a reason. The man seemed to laughing at his own joke.

Realising the boys were eager for food, and perhaps rest, Cymon spoke up.

“Maybe it’ll be better to discuss this matter another time,” the Water Taper told the old man. “I’m sorry for the rudeness, but we’ve been travelling for a while now.”

Again, Suchir laughed.

“No offence taken,” he remarked. “If I was forced to march on an empty stomach I’d be grumpy as well. Come, come. We’ll bring you something to eat.”

As the old man whispered into one of his men’s ears, both Finneas and Kistoph sat down. Not before long, food was brought out. Although simple rice, whoever cooked the meal had added enough spices to make it exceptionally tasty. It didn’t take long before both boys had eaten their meals. Once they’d finished their meal, the two decided it was best to sleep. There was a few mattress the boys could borrow. Although it was cold outside, Finneas was able to snug into a heavy blanket. He quickly fell asleep.

The boy was awakened rather early. The storm had finally arrived. Large gulps of rain hammered the area. It was decided they’d stay there until the weather had calmed down. Kistoph groaned. The boy had hoped to move on as quickly as possible. Finneas, on the other hand, was glad he didn’t have to trek through the rain. Nothing could be as bad as that, the boy had decided. A few days turn to a week or so. It seemed they were going to be there for a while. Again, Kistoph groaned.

Although guests, the two boys were assigned tasks. They were assigned to sweep the floors. Despite his friend’s complaints, Finneas was glad to help out. At least it stopped them from getting bored. Using brooms, the two boys brushed leafs and debris into one of the temple’s corner. They were told someone else would eventually pick the rubbish up and throw it away.

The two boys were allowed to sit in front of the fire. The last few days had been chilly, with the occasionally threats of rain. Although it never snowed in Estmere, the cold eastern winds would every now and then move across the mountain ranges and smother the slim stretch of coastal land with icy cold breezes. Each boy was given a blanket to rap around them. Finneas accepted his one eagerly. However, Kistoph declined, snubbing the native woman from gifting him a blanket. The boy’s friend didn’t seem all too comfortable. It seemed the boy was trying his damn hardest not to stare into the eyes of their hosts, in case one of them decided to strike up conversation. Finneas knew quite well how that’d end. Knowing his friend’s history, the boy understood his mistrust for natives. Finneas, on the other hands, had no reason to hate them.

The days passed quickly, as if a blur. The rain and the storm outside continued to ever grow, each day getting more violent. Finneas was glad they’d got to the temple when they did. The boy wouldn’t have wanted to wade through muddy terrain. The temple’s elder, Suchir, insisted the weather was behaving unnatural; as if someone was the cause. The old man insisted he’d never witnessed such downpour in his lengthy life. While Kistoph insisted it was a ploy to hold the two boys captive; Finneas didn’t mind staying a while. Although they were given task to complete, it not as laborious as working on the docks.

Having finished off their chores, the two boys sat down for a breather. Rolls of bread were handed out. Both boys munched away. As Finneas ate his meal, one of the native boys sat down next to him. The moment this occur, Kistoph shot up and walked away. Finneas simply ignored his friend’s action. The boy was well aware his friend disliked natives. There was no point dwelling on the issue; it’d probably make things worse.

“What’s up with your friend?” the native boy asked, having noticed Kistoph sudden move to get away.

“He’s had a difficult… it’s nothing,” Finneas decided not to finish his sentence. Some things were best unspoken, especially in the place with natives around. Finneas glanced over to see his friend sit in the corner, remaining somewhat in darkness.

“The name’s Lochen,” the native boy remarked, placing his hand out to shake. Not wanting to be rude, Finneas shook the boy’s hand. “But most people call me Loch.”

“That’s a free folk name?”

Finneas noticed how the boy’s skin was lighter than most natives. That was probably self-explanatory. He felt somewhat stupid, but Lochen seemed to let it slip.

“My father was from the free city,” the native boy explained. “Insisted I had a proper name. Said it’d make me fit in better. Not like it did any good.”

“So you’ve never been to Angluem?”

“Why would I?” Lochen asserted. “Not like I’d get the welcome mat. Spat upon more likely.”

“Not everyone’s bad,” Finneas responded, trying to defend his hometown.

“Your friend didn’t seem too friendly.”

“Yeah…” the boy wasn’t able to counter this, “s’pose you right. Forget I said that.”

“Already forgotten,” the native boy laughed. “So where you’re going?”

Finneas was taken by surprise at the question. The boy wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure whether to tell the truth or not. He didn’t know whether to trust him not. They’d barely met.

“North,” Finneas replied, trying to sound as vaguely as possible. The look on Locken’s face, the native was probably wanting more specific. “Rivet City,” the boy added.

“That far north?”

“It’s not that far, is it?”

To tell the truth, Finneas wasn’t the best at geography. He was never a big fan at studying maps – that was more Randle’s thing. He knew layout and locations of Estmere. The boy had seen the map many times before. For all the boy knew, the rest of the known world was shrouded in mystery. Why a boy should, on the edges of the Republic, be aware of stuff like that, only the One knew?

“It’s at least a thousand miles away from here,” Lochen explained. Finneas wasn’t sure how far a thousand miles was. “Why the Riverlands?”

Now the native boy was going too far. Finneas hadn’t even told Cymon their reason for traveling north; why should the boy have to tell some complete stranger.

“Rather not say,” he answered, not knowing how the native boy would react. To his surprise, Lochen seemed to understand the boy’s desire not to answer the question.

“All good,” the native boy simply said.

Knowing quite well his friend was feeling rather discomforted, Finneas decided to talk to Kistoph. The boy wasn’t sure what he was going to talk about. But he knew he had to say something; somehow lighten up the mood between them.

“Only a few more days, huh?” Finneas smiled, trying his best to be welcoming. The boy spoke in a hush voice, making sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Then were out of this place, right?”

His friend didn’t replied; not at first, at least.

“A few days,” Kistoph began complaining. Unlike Finneas, his friend didn’t even attempted to speak in a hush voice. It was like the boy wanted everyone to know his frustration. “It’s like the One’s punishing me. If I’d known I’d be ‘round savages, I mightn’t come.”

“Come on, Kist,” Finneas responded, “It’s not all been that bad? Thought you liked adventures? Plus, you wouldn’t ditch your old pal?”

The boy’s friend seemed to take an offence from that comment.

“It’s not the same, you know,” Kistoph simply stated.

Finneas was aware he wasn’t going to get much out of his friend. Maybe it was a personality fault, but Finneas hated seeing other people so disgruntled, especially if the people in question was his friends. There was no point bringing up Kistoph’s past, especially around the natives. Finneas wasn’t sure whether they’d understand anyway. The storm was beginning to calm, so they were most likely leaving the next day anyway.

The boy decided one last time to explore the temple. He didn’t know when the next time he’d get the chance to examine one so close. Despite its ruined state, the building gave off a spark of grander. If was difficult to describe. Finneas just couldn’t put his finger on it.

He wandered down a hallway. There was some smaller room down the other end, used for storage mainly, although the temple’s kitchen was located there as well. A few time during their stay, the two boys would be tasked to carry large boxes down to the kitchen area.

As he drew closer, the boy heard faint voices. Although Finneas could barely hear what was being discussed, he could knew exactly who the people were. Cymon and Suchir. The boy made sure his step couldn’t be heard, walking slowly towards the conversation. The two were in one of the storage rooms. It obvious neither was aware anyone else was eavesdropping.

“So you know why Sebastos showed interest in these kids?” Suchir asked.

“I’m not too sure. My discussion with Sebastos was brief,” the Water Taper began explaining. “But one of them, I assume… is the Seer.”

“The Seer…?” the old man seemed shocked. “Now that’s a bold claim… you know which one?”

Cymon shook his head.

“Sebastos was vague… but said there would be only one boy… two somewhat made it complicated,” the Water Taper continued explaining. “I assume there was a last minute change of plan. I wasn’t going to tell one of the boys to go back…”

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” the old man comforted the Water Taper, patting Cymon’s shoulder. “You’d the right thing… any idea which one…”

“Sebastos didn’t give a description… or a name… just said I’d recognise them…” the sound of Cymon’s voice; it was as if the Water Taper was annoyed. “I guess I’ll find out when Sebastos and I meet up again…”

“I’m sure before then, you’ll work it out,” the old man continued, before turning to another topic. “News of your brother? Information is scant. The movement still going?”

“He’s alive…” Cymon replied. “Isn’t that enough.”

“Kotahi does have a backup.”

“You’re not referring to me?” the water taper queried. “I’m no leader. That’s one thing I’m am sure of. It’s been years since I stood foot in the Riverlands. Would they seriously follow me? The wayward son? Surely not.”

“Stranger things have happened…”

Finneas heard footsteps. Suddenly, Cymon walked out of the storage room. The boy pretended he hadn’t listened to their conversation. He stared at one of the memorial scattered down the hallway. The Water Taper, however, appeared to be unaware of the boy’s presence. Finneas was about to leave, returning to the main hall. Yet something caught his attention. He stared at the memorial. They were unlike the ones seen outside. At the centre was a giant mountain, each peak sinisterly jagged. The boy had seen these mountains before, from a distance. They were the mountain ranges that protected Estmere from the Darklands, a cruel and mysterious land to the east. Although faded, the mountains had once been painted with dark colours. The sun shined from the west, revealing a bright and vibrant land. It was an ancient depiction of Estmere, long before the common folk ever arrived. Magnificent mountain temples and cities scattered the ancient lands, most long destroyed, although the capital Heathreed could still be recognised. Finneas knew the city was rather old. On the other side of the mountains was darkness; detail illustrations of clouds storming the mountainous wall, attempted to invade the land of Estmere. Smaller battles could be notice throughout the image. The ancient native populace defending their lands from dark mysterious figures dress in assassin-like uniforms.

“The dark tapers are a strange bunch,” Suchir commented. Finneas was unaware the old man was behind him. He turned around to face the old man. “You’re too young to remember the last attack?”

Finneas nodded. “Don’t know if I’s alive?”

“Of course, of course,” the old man responded. “It must be, say, fifteen years ago.”

“I’m thirteen.”

“Certainly then, you definitely won’t remember.”

Although the boy had never witnessed an attack by the Dark Tapers, he heard hallowing stories from the older generation. Nance, who was around the boy’s age when they last attacked, once recounted her experience. Unlike the Sanlanders, the Dark Tapers had no purpose for attacking. They simply came and pillage, taking the few odds and ends. They would never take slaves, instead preferring to kill entire villages. Nance was one such victim, having her entire town torched. She was able to escape, but her family died in the slaughter. It was probably why she had such a soft spot for orphans like Finneas.

After scowling the land, destroying everything in their path, the Dark Tapers would suddenly leave, crossing back over the mountain range. Most people flee to the cities, where walls protected its citizens. Once it was safe, people from the countryside would have to return to their settlements to rebuild. Finneas had heard many stories from all sorts of people, from sailors to merchants, who recounted the same events, sometime by verbatim. The terrifying events were still fresh on many people’s minds. No one knew when the Dark Tapers would strike again.

“Are they evil?” Finneas asked, not knowing whether the old man would have the answers. “Are the stories true? They eat people, right?”

Suchir laughed, probably due to the boy’s naïve statement.

“Not evil; more misunderstood. And they certainly don’t eat people, I can say that for sure,” the old man responded. “In my younger years, I travelled from place to place. You can say I saw the world. I once travelled what is called the Darklands, many years ago.”

Finneas didn’t seem convinced. He heard from sailors no one is allowed into the Darklands. The old man was aware of the boy’s doubt.

“It’s the truth, I promise,” the old man assured the boy. “Sometimes I find it difficult myself to believe.”

“So… what’s the place like?”

“It’s a harsh place, full of harsh people,” Suchir responded. “The Light blinds – something you’ll hear a lot. They always seemed afraid of something. Perhaps darkness suits them.”

“Ever met a Shadow?”

The old man seemed thrown at this question. Maybe Finneas shouldn’t have asked that. He’d heard about the Shadows before; the mysterious order that rule the Darklands. They are said to be powerful Dark Tapers, able to wield immense power.

“Once,” the old man said. “Only once… the man wasn’t from there, I could tell. But he had risen up the ranks. Dark Tapers do occasionally appear outside the Darklands, born to unsuspecting families. Unless the Sensors get to the poor soul, they usually make their way to the Darklands. I pitied the man, at first. But he seemed to make something out of an awful situation.”

“Seems a lot like me?” Finneas ponder aloud.

The boy certainly didn’t have the best upbringing or anything. No one really gave much of thought for orphans like Finneas. He practically came from nothing. In a way, his chance meeting with Sebastos allowed the boy to make best out of what seemed like his own awful situation.

“Similar,” the old man remarked. “Similar… you better return. It’s getting late. I don’t want to keep you up too late.”

Although the boy wanted to protest since he wasn’t all too tired anyway, he did what he was told. He returned to the main chamber. He decided against telling Kistoph what had occurred.

(c) 27 March 2021 - Patrick Fowlet


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